


Shake Me Up

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon, No Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-25
Updated: 2007-04-19
Packaged: 2018-12-27 11:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Justin Taylor knows he's gay. He also knows he lives in 1955, and in 1955 you don't fall in love with the guy across the street. Even if he is Brian Kinney.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

He woke up to the sound of silence.

Silence was all he knew, all that mattered here in Dullsville, USA.

Justin yawned and stretched in front of his bedroom window, looking at the sky. It was starting to rain.

As he dressed in front of his mirror, he realized it was all for nothing. Nothing would ever happen to him. Sexually, or otherwise. The only exciting things he took small thrills in were seeing his roomate Peter occasionally naked. That was it. And his hot art professor. After that, he had no chance.   
Justin shook his hair out in front of him, making it messy and unkempt. Just the way he liked it.

Justin took pleasure in the fact that he was a rebel.  
A non-conformist.  
A cock-sucking queer.  
That is, if he could ever get his hands( or lips) on a dick.  
And the boys he did see in school were so crew-cut, so polo-shirt, pussy-loving assholes with money.  
Eveb if a guy did want to sleep with him, he wouldnt have the balls to do it. The guy could be caught.  
He'd be made a mockery of. An example of what not to do.

The American Dream, according to Justin, was some guy-on-guy action. The American Dream that he lived in, though, involved green lawns, cute houses, babies. Women at home, cooking. Men at work, making money.  
It sucked.

Justin made himself some coffee, tried not to wake Peter in their fucking small house. At least Peter paid the rent on time,and at least he got to live on his own. He should be, he was 20 after all.

Pulling his shoulder bag over his head and shutting the door, Justin turned his head. Across the street, doing the same exact thing as he was was a man.

The hottest man he had ever seen.

In his life.

Justin bit his lip to keep from grinning. The guy made him giddy, nervous with energy and excitement. He was wearing a gray suit, and he was fucking tall.

Fuck it. Justin's teeth let go if his lip and he smiled at his neighbor. Because it was the friendly thing to do.

He waited for the inevitable rejection.

Instead, the guy smiled back.

And Justin's heart fell onto the wet ground, smattering into a million pieces.


	2. Shake Me Up

Great. It's shaping up to be another suck-ass Tuesday.

It's already starting to drizzle as I get ready for work. God, it's like the time when men are supposed to have free reign, control over everything, we don't.

At least I don't, since I like dick.

Fuck the world. The only close encounter of the queer kind I've ever had was my first time three years ago, and even after we were done Tom, my co-worker who now avoids me at all costs, says he was way too drunk. P.S.-he still hasn't knocked his wife up, and he works way late hours. I wonder...

It's fucking hard to life this life, but I do. I have to. Just waiting until he comes along, on a white horse... yeah right. Or I guess until I fold, either take too many pills or marry a girl. Either way is certain death, but at least with the pills it's not living a lie.  
I hate not having a guy to wake up next to, to hear him breathe next to me in the middle of the night, wake him up and tell him how weird this feels. How right, even though we're literally outcasts in our society. We can't go out and hold hands. Get married? No fucking way. If two guys are seen even being remotely intimate with one another, we have to move. It's insane.  
I get dressed and get my head out of the clouds and into reality: I have to go to work. Pretend to be happy, Kinney.   
I close my door and straighten my tie, and see a guy across the street doing the same thing. Closes the door.  
Shit. He sees me.

God. He's fucking beautiful. He has long blond hair. And he looks like a schoolboy. A collegiate, sophisticated schoolboy, wearing this grey long-sleeved sweater thing and black dressy pants. And a bag over his shoulders. I can see his chest prominently displayed through the strap of the bag.

He's young. Untouched. Waiting for me to unwrap him. If I had major balls I would so walk over there, offer him my arm and pull him under my umbrella so he wouldn't get wet. The way a man should be treated.

But I don't. Instead, I smile at him. 

Oh. My. God.

He's smiling back.

Fuck, Kinney. You're twenty-five, for fuck's sake. What are you doing?

It's like I can't control it, though. I can't stop smiling. We walk down our block at the same pace, only on opposite sides. If he were mine I would hold his hand, whisper how much I want to fuck him in the middle of the street until he blushes. I bet he'd blush if I touched his face.  
He turns the corner, and I keep walking straight.   
Fuck.  
He turns his head around, still looking at me.  
Still smiling.  
He walks away down the street. I keep watching until he disappears.

I think I want to die.


	3. Shake Me Up

One morning it's like I hate my life and I want to die.

And today it's like fuck me. This gorgeous guy smiles at me.

I think my insides are dying. I feel them literally falling to pieces as I'm walking to my early lecture class. God, he's making me want him already. But what do I do? How do I approach him? Do I go:

"Hey. I think you're hot. Wanna makeout?"

or

"Hey. So, yeah. I want to fuck you. Like, now."

I don't think either approach will work. Besides, I don't just wanna fuck him. I want to get to know him. His name, for starters. What he sees when he looks at clouds,if he sees the same shapes I do. His favorite time of day. 

The way his face looks when he just wakes up.

Oh god, it's happening. I'm turning into a girl. I can't help this fucking smile, though. It's contagious. Wow. I haven't been this happy since...forever. I wonder where he works...

Lisa's waiting for me on our bench. She's your total classic all-american girl: pearls, blonde hair. Rich. But she's cool that I'm gay. In fact, she seems to like it a little more than I do. I sit next to her. The rain seems to have let up for the moment. I smile and look at my feet.

"Someone's happy today..."  
She trails off and looks at my face, as if the answer was written there. I think I'm blushing too, I feel flush and hot. What can I say? He makes me feel sexy. ANd I haven't even spoken to him yet.

"I kinda sorta smiledataguy."

"What?"  
The words came out really fast so I let them.

"I smiled at a guy. A hot guy. And he smiled back."

Oh shit. I think she just freaked out.

"WHAT? Oh my god, Justin! I want all the details, now. Is he hot? How old is he?...."

I heard her say some shit like "how big do you think he is", and then I tuned her out. Shit. Why did I have to open my big mouth and tell her? Now she won't stop.

I moan and sigh, dramatically clutch her hands.  
"Dear god Lisa. He lives across the street. I can't just go over there and be like 'Hey. Wanna be boyfriends?' I'd get fucking arrested or something."

She nods.   
"This is a predicament. Oh my god! I know what you should do!"

She whispers it into my ear, and I nod at her.  
I am so gonna get laid now.  
I am so gonna get to meet the guy of my dreams.  
Woo-hoo!!  
I can't help but smile wider as we go and take our seats for the lecture. I need to get home now so I can get my plan in motion...


	4. Shake Me Up

The longest day in the history of the world.

I couldn't stop thinking about him. His face, his lips, the blondeness of his air. That perfect ass in those pants he was wearing...

I also couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to touch him. Although I only saw him from across the street he looks like he has really soft skin. I bet he feels really good when he's on top of you...

Finally I get to go home. It's around six. The lights are out in his house. Maybe he's out with his friends. I hope not. I sigh, and reach for my mail.

What's this?

If I could scream, I so would.

I think I'm being courted.

I pull out a small chocolate heart from my mailbox with a card: Because roses are so cliche. Love, The Blonde across the street

If I get struck by lightning right now, or a car just happens to drive onto the sidewalk and on my front lawn and mows me down, I would die with a smile on my face. Make that a fucking grin.

I change as fast as I can. I don't even know what I'm putting on. All I know is that he needs to be home. I take a quick look in the mirror and smile. Need to be confident, so he doesn't think this is wrong. Obviously, he thinks this is right, so I have nothing to worry about. Be yourself. Tell him you like his...hair?

I'm standing in front of his house. My finger is on the doorbell. Is this for real? I press it. Stupid finger. I have no control over my body. I hear footsteps. They must be his. He has the cutest footsteps in the world. Not loud or intrusive. Just right. Here we go...

The door swings open and he's standing there. If I wasn't smiling already, I am now.

He's the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. 

Ever.

Oh my god. He's wearing...pajamas! Wait? Why is he looking at me like that?

Justin

Motherfuckingshit!

I'm wearing my red and white pajamas, the ones I've had since I was like six. And guess who's standing in front of me, looking like a walking fucking dream.

Him.

Okay. Wait. Let me take a look at him up close and personal: God. If I wasn't gay before, I would so turn gay for him. I want to hide him away in my bed so no one else gets to him. He's fucking beautiful. That wavy texture in his brownish hair, those eyes. So intense. He's tall. Which makes me short in comparison. Oh well. Oh my god. What does he have in his hands?

"I know you think roses are cliche, so I brought you a sunflower. It's only one, since they're bigger than other flowers."

Shit. He's talking, right? His lips, the lips I want to reach out and touch and taste, are moving. I think he's talking about the sunflower. Okay. Pull yourself together.

"Wow. It's beautiful. You're beautiful."  
Fuck me really hard. I just told him he was beautiful. Wow. He's smiling at me. God. I think I'm in heaven.

''Thanks."  
I think I made him blush! His cheeks are somewhat red. Oh shit, I didn't even invite him in yet.

"God. Where are my manners? Come in." He grins again.  
"Thanks."  
I wish I could change. He's wearing this tight black shirt. His chest looks...divine. He takes his jacket off and I see his arms for the first time...trail my eyes down to his pants...is that a..bulge? Is he hard for me? He sees me looking and he grins and looks down at me. His eyebrows go up. I think I'm hard too. In my fucking pajama pants, where you can see everything. Great. Who the fuck cares. He's got a hard on for me!!

Brian

If someone asked me what my own personal heaven would be, it would be this. I want to do so much to him. I just want him. And I think he wants me, seeing as he's hard as a rock. I bet his dick is perfect. Like his ass. Soon I'm going to start salivating. Shape up. I take my jacket off and sit on the couch.

"Do you want something to drink?''  
He's playing housewife!   
"Erm,no, whatever you're having, I guess.''  
Shit I'm stammering again.   
He makes his grand return with two glasses of milk. Hands one to me and then sits down. Our knees are touching since this is the smallest couch I've ever seen.

"I don't think we've even been properly introduced."  
He's so cute. I smirk.  
"I'm Brian."  
Hold out my hand. He takes it.  
"Justin."  
Justin. Justin. Perfection.  
We shake. After we stop shaking, neither of us lets go. So I guess now we're holding hands.  
My body is tossing confetti in the air.  
He has a milk mustache. God. I bite my lip to keep from grinning at him. He caught me.

"What?" He looks so worried. I can finally see his eyes now. Blue. He looks so young.

"Nothing. It's just, you have a mustache."  
His eyes widen. He must be embarassed. His free hand goes to wipe it off but I stop him just in time.

Here it is. I lean in, close my eyes. My tounge darts out and starts to make a clean swipe across his upper lip. I pull him into my body and I start delving deeper. I kiss him softly. It feels...like something I've been waiting for. He moans a little. Oh god. If that makes me wet, then what am I gonna do when...I stop thinking about thar and think about this. He puts his hand in my hair. I feel so hot. This feels so hot.  
We let go. He stares at me, flushed and happy.  
I just realized we're still holding hands.


	5. Shake Me Up

Whoa.

I understand now why people say you know what that feeling is the minute you meet someone. How you just know what it's like to feel completely...indebted to another person. I've barely even said a word to him and I feel like this. Stop thinking, Taylor and start talking. He's looking at me after our amazing kiss. What do I say?

"That was..."

"Perfect?"  
Brian adds as I trail off, not thinking of any words, or thinking of anything logical at all, even. He's looking at me like he wants more.

"Yeah. I never imagined it would be this way, though. It's all happening so fast."

"Slow down there, Sunshine. We just met. It's not like I proposed or anything."

Huh? What the hell does that mean? I scrunch my eyebrows up and try to decipher the meaning in-between the lines.   
Wait. Why is he laughing?

"I'm just kidding. Think we need a little humor to lighten the tension."  
So he does feel it. Mm. That makes me want to reach down and touch myself, right in front of him. Bet he'd like that. Holy fuck! What am I thinking? I barely know him. He could be out to get me. He sure as hell seems like he likes me. 

And why did my stomach feel like it was digesting my heart when he called me sunshine?

And now he's leaning in closer. His head is on my shoulder and I can smell him. God. He smells like fields of sunflowers, like the aftermath of a rain shower on a hot August day. He smells like a man who wants to be with another man. It makes me ache to think that this is reality. This is happening to me.

"I feel as if I know you already. Is that a strange thing to say to someone you just met ten minutes ago?"  
He's whispering it into my shoulder. I run a hand through his soft hair. It feels like spun silk.

"Not if I feel the same way."  
He looks up.  
"Do you think, I mean, if you wanted to, would you..."  
He cant finish his sentences. If he could get any cuter right now I would just die. Hes looking at the floor, so I tilt his head up to face me with my fingers.  
"Would I what?"  
His eyes silently acknowledge me for helping him finish. I'd do anything to see that look. He sighs, takes a deep breath.   
"Wanttogoonadatewithme?"  
Oh god. He's so nervous right now. I have to be strong for him. Can't show him I'm more nervous.

''I would love to."  
His face flushes back with color and he smiles. A smile that makes me think he really likes me.

"I think we should get to know each other a little more before we actually get any further."  
He looks confused. I lean in close and press my lips to his ear. Lick the lobe a little, then say in my most alluring voice,  
"But I want you to know that I wanted to fuck you the second I saw you leave your house this morning."

Christ! Who the fuck am I? I'm a fucking phone sex operator now. See what he makes me do?  
Softly I kiss his cheek and look up at him. He looks worried.  
"What?"  
He cups my face in his hands and it feels like I'm in the arms of that one person, you know you want to meet and you finally do, and it all feels right.  
"I'm sorry. I can't do this. I..I guess I'll...Later."  
He gets up and walks out.

I feel empty. Crushed. Dead.


	6. Shake Me Up

I want to set fire to my brain. I want it to burn and slowly watch myself die.

I just ran away from the love of my life.

I don't know. He could be. Could've been mine, if I let him try. He did try. I tried.

Didn't I?

Wasn't I the one who kissed him? And it felt more than amazing. It was like flying. His lips on mine, for those six seconds( I had to count, it was too good not to remember how long it lasted for) was it. It was all I ever wanted. All I ever want. So I sit here in my bed, hear the clock on the side of my bed tick away...8:10, 8:30,9:50. I think it's ten now. I get up. Slowly. My face feels dead from all my tears. I get up and glance over at his house. The light is still own. If only I could get my sorry ass up and walk across the street...  
Instead I find some paper, a pen. Sit down at my desk and start making my heart bleed for him. I love him. If I can't tell him that to his angelic face, then I'll tell him this way. 

_November 3, 1955_  
Dear Justin,  
Here's my deep breath. I'm diving into a world where and I are in love. We have been together for too many years to count, but it feels like a minute. We have children, grandchildren. A house with a big porch. Lemonade in chilled glasses with ice. And that kiss on my lips. God, Justin, if only you knew what that kiss did to me. I met you today, right? It feels like we've met before, in a past life, because I've never felt so connected to anyone else before. I want you more than anything in this world. I want to call you Sunshine and Baby and hold you in the middle of summer, even when it's so hot, but without each other we can't sleep. I ran away from you today. From us. I want you to know that I will always be across the street from you, but you will always be in my heart. In my mind. This world is too cruel and unforgiving for us to be together, but I hope one day we can be. I'm only as strong as I make myself, and right now I'm just about strong enough to wilt. I'm proud of you for being gay. But I just can't be. Now now. I'm not asking you to wait for me. That would be wrong. I'm asking you to remain proud and strong. Be yourself. I love you.   
-Brian 


	7. Shake Me Up

His letter was in my mailbox the next morning. He must have left for work earlier, or later. I didn't see him when I left for school. I read it on the way there. By the time I got to class I had to find somewhere to put my heart. I was crying, violently. I wanted to vomit and run back to him and smack him. Then kiss the pain away.

He was fucking scared.

Did he ever stop to think I was scared too? That this was uncharted territory, that I have random encounters with men every night? That he makes me feel like I'm inside a blender, shaken,thrown together with pieces of my heart and his. That for twenty-four hours I felt more myself, more alive, than I ever had?

Fuck him. It's over.

But it can't be over. I can't stop thinking about him.

I ditch class and walk back to his house. I all but run there, out of breath when I reach his steps. I'm taking a chance. He might not be home, but this love thing is not going away. This is right now.

Ring. Ring. I stand there, ringing it like an idiot. I feel fresh tears coming down my face. I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't-

I feel vitalized when he answers. Just seeing him makes me stop my second-guessing. He looks like shit, though. But he's mine. 

"What are you doing--"  
I stop him halfway through and throw myself around him, jump into his arms and kiss his lips and feel his hair again. He's supporting me now. He rests his hands around my waist and I can't help but think that the first time, our first time, I want him to hold me like this, feel him move inside me... God. I'm thinking about sex at a time like this. I smile and we take a breath. He rests his forehead against mine and I feel a wetness on my face. I stopped crying a few minutes ago...

"Shh, Brian. You don't have to cry anymore. I'm here now.Okay?"  
I nod and quiet him down. I feel his body shake with his sobs. It hurts to see him this way. So melancholy.  
"Let's go sit down, Brian. Cmon."  
I jump down and grab his hand. We go to his couch. On the walls are pictures, Brian and his parents. His sister. His brother. Brian and his brother are sitting on a chair, it looks like one of those pictures someone takes in front of your face. He's smiling,intensely. His brother looks a little bit older than him. Have to ask him about that later...

I sit him down. How do I make him stop crying?   
"Justin, I cccan't, I'm sso sssorry..."  
"Shh. Brian. Look at me."  
If I whisper, it seems like he listens. Except when you tell him something dirty and he runs out on you.  
Good. At least he's looking. I take his hands in mine and jump...  
"You are so beautiful. You have nothing to be afraid of. Brian, I'm terrified here too, but that's the point. If we knew what was going to happen, then love loses some of it's magic, it's mysteriousness. I want to be with you, night and day. On the street. Holding hands, out to dinner. I want you to make love to me for the first time. I want you inside me. But we can't do any of that, any of this, if you're not willing to trust me."  
I hope he understands how much I mean this. How much this means to me.  
He looks like he's ingesting my words. Hope so. Finally he stops crying, let's go of my hands and wipes his face. I help him, and he takes my hands in his.  
He sighs a few times, and leans into me. Like the first time, and starts talking.

"My brother, Sam. I loved him so much. He was such a rolemodel for me, you know? That one older person in your life whom you can trust with anything. When he told me he was gay I was fifteen. He was twenty-three. I didn't think it was such a big deal. I had started getting these intense attractions to guys in my class around the same time, and I thought we were going to be okay. One day Sam brings a guy home. I guess they were fucking, but some time during the night my dad walks in on them. Throws my brother out. And the guy. We never talk about it again. Or Sam. Last time he called was around a year ago. He lives in somewhere in Europe. Seems happy. I can't get that image of my dad out of my head, though. Such...hatred. I got the hell out of there when I was 18. They think I'm married. I never had the heart to tell them who I really am."

As I'm holding him in my arms, as he's talking, I realize how important I am to him. How big of a deal this is for me to even be here. The truth hurts like a motherfucker. I pull him up. Look him in the eye.

"I'm not going anywhere. We're going to do this. Together."

"Together."  
I let out the breath I was holding. There's that smile again.  
"You know, when you whispered that stuff in my ear yesterday, I was so hard. And wet."

Fuck. I think I just got hard and wet. 

"Wanna show me?"  
He grins and laughs.  
"Don't you think we're moving a little too fast?"  
Eh...yeah. But we both need this.  
"But I want you now."  
"Oh yeah?" He's kissing my neck, putting his hands under my shirt,feeling me up. I think he's moaning as he feels my nipples. I feel like coming right now...  
Now he's exploring my stomach. Kissing it, leaving me small bruises that feel like love bites...I love him.  
He's back, facing me again. He's looking in my eyes and I feel like dancing. Ballroom dancing. Gliding along the clouds with him...He's talking. What?  
I open my eyes.  
"Jus. Is it too early to say that I love you?"  
I grin. He tugs at my shirt. There it goes, on the floor.  
I pretend to think.  
"Mm. Nope. I'd say it's just about time. I love you."  
Suddenly he's picking me up, carrying me up the stairs, on the way to de-virginizing land. 

"I want to eat you out, blow you. Fuck you all night. All day tomorrow. And the day after that. Touch you until you feel like starting all over again."

Fuckk...he just made me shoot. In my pants.


	8. Shake Me Up

"Oh God."

I'm moving inside of him fast and slow at the same time, feeling joy and despair at the same time. 

Love and obsession at the same time.

"Brian."

He sounds strangled, a cry in the night for air, for life. His hands are on my face now. He wants all of me. I intend to give it to him. He's breathing hard, panting and moaning and clawing at my skin. He's a panther clinging for a kill, he wants it so bad but he can't just make it about the sex, he wants it to be about this:

the whoosh sound my heart makes when he feels me move inside of him

his eyes, his lips, how open and chapped and wet they are when he calls for me

his hands in mine, his feet around my waist as I sit him up, make him that much closer to me

It has to be about that, or then, I don't know. He has to know that I feel that way too. 

And then he comes with a scream in the night. He's lit up, an amusement park at the end of a steamy August night, the rides lit up and filled with children wanting to experience their freedom before the confines of school. There's no other noise except him and me, our breaths hot and hard, his lips on my cheeks, my moans highly visible in his ear. I feel like the rain, my body is now divided into millions, more than millions, of drops spread around the world, a cover of clouds upon my face. I belong to him now. Officially.

The night air is the third party in our bed, creating a space between me and Justin. He faces me. His cheeks are puffy. His lips are red. He smiles, and all is right with everything, I'm not afraid, he's not doubting this. Us. He speaks with his eyes, they enlarge and then he speaks for real. 

"Have you ever imagined something like this?"

I bet he's dying to say how hot it was. He has tact. He woulsn't say that. Actually...

"Yeah, but I never thought it would become so real, so much that if I reach out and put my hand on your chest, I feel your heart."

Shit. I just fucking gave away my balls. Next time we fuck he should expect to find a vagina down there. I'm de-branded by love. His love. But he's not laughing, he's...

Smiling. Putting his hand over mine, over his heart. God. I bite my lips to stop smiling so much. Doesn't work.

"What?"  
He's taken aback, I must be staring at him too much.

"Sorry if I can't help looking. You're so sexy. Hot. Beautiful."

He's blushing. I think I am too. But...

"You're wondering, what now, right? What happens after this?''

Fuckin mind reader. Just because you stay inside of someone after you sleep with them doesn't mean they can read your mind. 

He shifts. I can't see his face anymore. Instead he chooses to put his head on my chest, my hand automatically wraps around his skin, his hot sweaty Justin-smelling skin. I lean down and get my face comfortable near his. It's nothing and everything. I want so much more, but I never expected this. I want to marry him, have ten kids with him, bring him to galas and events and dress him up in expensive menswear.

''I mean, do you want more than this? I think I would if you..."

Don't do that, Justin. Don't be self-conscious. Tell me what you want because I don't think I have the balls to tell you.

"What?"

I kiss his temple for encouragement. I really do need to work on expressing my feelings.

"Want to be my boyfriend?''

Time for my mouth to open. Time for the poems of Walt Whitman and Edna St. Vincent Millay to come pouring out of my soul and into his, words I couldn't write but only say to someone I loved, to make them feel like I wanted this. I want this. What do I do now?  
It's time for balls, Kinney. Time to face the wall of cold hard fact and tell another human being what I could never do. Time for love.

I turn him around in my arms and hold him soclose. 

"I want...to be more than your boyfriend. I want...forever with you. If it's not too much to ask...I mean, I know we just met and all but I think I feel like I know, you know? I just...know. It's right, I'm right this time."

Fuckin asshole. Babbling on like that. What will he think?

He looks into my eyes and I know.

"Marry me."


	9. Shake Me Up

Wow. I think I just asked him to marry me. 

It feels so-- liberating. So wrong. So fucking amazing.

The way he moved inside of me, the way he's still staring at me now, we're still so hot, this room is hot. It's fall and the leaves are returning to the earth, and I have a lover.

''Marry you?"

Shit. I freaked the fuck out of him. Damnit, Justin! You knew this when he walked out on you... Fuck. But I think I love him. It's weird. I never thought love was like this, so strange, so unstable and melodic and--heart-swelling. He's beautiful and extraordinary and mine.

I grin and he cups my face in his hand. It feels so good, it feels like the way my father never did. Brian gives me affection and love in a way that no one ever has. And it's my duty to return that to him. I wince as he speaks again. I don't, won't deal with rejection. It's my first time and I won't cry. I wont' cry when he says no.

"Okay."

"What?"

Now I'm deaf, because he just said something resembling ok. 

"Jus, I said yes. I want to marry you. Like right now, actually. If the sex is gonna be as hot as this, then I want full access to you twenty-four/seven."

Omfg. My hair feels like it wants to fall off, that I can't explain. I can't explain why I've fallen in love over the course of what, two days? I can't explain why I chose him, why he chose me, why we were meant to be. If I believed in fate. I know that I believe in him, and I know that that is what is going to get us through the hard shit that is bound to happen to us.

Oh god. He's under the sheet now. His face is--

on my cock. I'm in his mouth and he's sucking hard and fast-his eyes look up at mine and then I'm gone-flying far away from anywhere on earth, seeing the galaxy and the stars up close and now he's kissing me.

This is-beauty.


	10. Shake Me Up

I left him alone for a little while, all brown hair and sweaty chested. He doesn't know what I'm doing.

"What size would you like the rings to be, sir?"

I'm surprised that this guy is actually letting me buy two men's bands. No questions asked. Shit. What size is he?

"Um. I'm thinking, this one should be seven, and this one, six and a half."

I have no idea if these sizes are right. All I know is that I'm in a jewelry store, buying two wedding bands.

This must mean that we're getting married.

"Oo Jus, look at that rock!"

I snagged Lisa to come with me. She knows what she's talking about when it comes to expensive gold rings. Or expensive anything.

"Do you think I got the right sizes?"

She took my hand in hers, visually measuring my slender fingers.

"I think so. If not, tell Brian that it's my fault."

I laugh. "Okay. After I tell him about you."

She's up my ass now.

"What? You haven't told Brian about your wife yet? I'm broken-hearted, Justin. I want a divorce."

She's so cute. I love her.

"Fine. I'll sign the papers tomorrow."

She slaps my ass and the man behind the counter wraps my rings up in two boxes.

"That will be fifty dollars and seventy cents, please."

That's it. I just wiped out all of my savings. Brian had better be paying for my tux. And the reception.

"Jus? How are you actually going to go through with this?"

We walk outside, and I realize what she just said. How the fuck are we gonna do this?

"I don't know. All I know is that I love him. If no one else can see that, or they wanna arrest us, let them. At least we'll be together in prison. We just won't tell anyone we're married. We can live togther, have a private ceremony. No one will know."

"Uh, hello. Jus, you do live in this town, right? Do you know how fast word travels about someone buying the wrong kind of soap? Imagine the backlash of two men getting fucking married. You'll be crucified. Shot, then hanged, then crucified. After that you'll be spat upon and hated."

Is she serious? Maybe if we just wear the bands. If we can't make it real, then it will be real between us.

"If we can't get married officially, then the two of us will know what we feel. Fuck everyone else."

My determination outweighs my fear. I want him so bad, he's all I ever think about. I put his needs above my own. I say goodbye to Lisa and stroll down our block, smiling at everything and anything. When I get in I strip and make my way back up to our bedroom. I'm exposed. I hide the boxes behind me. He's grinning.

"Hey sexy boy. Where did you run off to? I missed my baby..."

God. I think I'm dripping on the carpet. I hop onto the bed and tell him to close his eyes.

"Okay. Closed. What. Are you gonna blow me or something?"

"Smartass. Okay. Open them."

What happens next is...divine intervention. He glows, he fucking glows when he sees the bands in my hand. He looks at them in disbelief, like everything is unreal.

"Are you serious, Jus?"

I nod, more than ready to do this. I slip it on his finger. He does the same for me.

"I love you, baby. Fuck, I love you so much."

He whispers in my ear and throws himself on me.

Next thing I know he's fucking me, my legs up in the air, and I'm screaming his name.

The hottest wedding proposal ever.


	11. Shake Me Up

We were naked and sweaty and in love, the sheets tangling between our legs and it felt like nothing I had ever read about. We made love and he linked our fingers together so that the tips were touching, our rings colliding together. I could barely see his outline, it was dark out and beginning to rain. I turned to look at him, run a hand across his cheek.

"So this is what freedom feels like."

He straddled my waist, the sheet hanging loosely from his curvy hips, his hands playing with the few hairs on my chest. Open mouthed kisses on my nipples, my ears. My lips.

"Scary, isn't it? I think you're fuckin' brave to marry me."

"Why?"

Justin sat up, his chest firmly against the headboard. Looking at me with huge saucer eyes, porous and vast and infinite. He was this person, this open unscripted person, man, who wanted nothing more than someone to share his life with. He was honest and capable and so goddamn gorgeous, beautiful. Sparkling.  
He bit at a hangnail and snuggled up next to me, our hair becoming masses of blonde and brown. 

"Brian, I'm a baby. I've only had zero super serious relationships prior to you. I want to be a good husband, but, I'm just, I think I'm too young."

It came out whispery and light, his lips on my cheeks as he told me what he felt. Oh, Justin. If only you knew. I held him close and slipped a hand in his hair and felt myself become fearless, I could tell him anything.

"God. Jus, I'm fucking thirty two. I've been gay my whole life and had what, two prior sexual encounters to you? So this is me taking a fucking flying leap into the land of...committment, fear, love. I love you. I know that. And I know that if the two of us have no idea what we're doing, we should be on the same track. I've been afraid before but this is..."

I feel a tear slip from my cheek and I wonder where the hell it came from. I'm so emotional but I don't feel like a pussy for it...I'm just telling my boyfriend what I feel.

It's fucking brilliant to verbalize what's been going on in here to someone who listens. Won't judge.

Understands.

His index finger wipes it away, following its trail down to my neck where it would have pooled into the beginnings of a puddle of tears. He kisses the wet line down my cheek and I turn to look at him. I know my eyes are swimming pools, wet, chlorine-free, filled with something I can't describe. The future, I guess.  
He holds me this time, which is different. Feels like his arms can't reach around me enough, he's so small and boyish, but he's more the man than I can ever wish to be. We fall asleep facing each other.

Next morning it's cloudy and raining. His eyes open first. I open my eyes to find him staring at me. He's a child in a man's body, completely outiftted with a man's mind and body parts, but he's intense for someone his age. How I love thee, let me count the ways.

"Who do you think you were in your past life?"

He smiles. I got him, finally. He wipes the crust out of his eyes and links both of our hands together. I hope he touches me like this for the rest of eternity.

"Someone from the Renaissance. I'm thinking a Flemish painter or an artisan, a patron, something. I think the Renaissance saved the world from complete and utter destruction."

Fuck, he's witty and completely intelligent all at the same time. I must learn his ways. His eyebrows srunch up, waiting for my answer.

"A proud gay man. Someone from the 20's or 30's who was gay and didn't care. Maybe Oscar Wilde. More likely Oscar Wilde's lover. But someone who says he's gay and doesn't give a shit about the repurcussions, the backlash."

I sit there thinking about what I just said and I feel myself weeping. 

His eyes get big and wet and blue like the waters of the Pacific Ocean, somewhere in Europe where the water is crystal clear. He weeps with me and wipes my hair off my forehead. 

"Look at you. You're in bed with me, after having made love to me all night, after proposing to me. Someone with a dick. This is big and huge and shattering. You are a proud gay man. I am in awe of you. I love you."

The tears all end up on his face, anway. He cries with me and wipes mine away, alternately wiping his away. 

So this is what unconditional feels like.

_Hell yes I'm movin this way I'm doin this thing_  
(please enjoy)  
Hell yes I'm turnin it on  
I'm workin my legs hell yes  



	12. Chapter 12

  
Author's notes: I feel like I'm just returning here, I havent been on this site in quite some time, and I really want to finish my stories, so enjoy! And Happy Holidays!  


* * *

I hear his car outside, the headlights making the snow seem artificial. It shines and sparkles outside the window and I wished that I felt more alive.

"Hey baby. Fucking hard day."

I adjust my body to see him walk through the door, dropping his coat and briefcase near the stairs. We live together now, but no one(meaning, him or myself) has brought up the subject of making our little live-in lover a husband in two years. People outside think we're each married to women. Somehow we fooled 'em.

I don't really say anything as he sidles up against me, taking off my glasses and placing them gently on the coffee table in front of us, where his feet are currently situated. His mouth opens up and he's kissing my temples, hands running through my blonde strands and I want him to stop, I want to get up and stand on the fucking table and scream. I don't even know what he wants anymore.

"I'm not in the mood," I manage to get out after a moan, he makes me hard immediately. He crawls into my lap and he's straddling me, hands under my shirt and feeling me up. My body adheres to him like a fitted glove; I can't move or think or breathe when he does this.

"Bri, I said stop," but I don't think he heard me. I'm not even sure that I said it, he's leaving wet trails along my neck and I want him to blow me all night long, take me out of the horrible mood that I'm in and then make love to me with only the lights from the Christmas tree and the snow outside, his face in the dark as he enters me.

"Stop! Fucking stop it, Jesus Christ!"

I get up and leave him there, pants around his ankles and hair mussed, lips wet and red and heavy, like he just bit into a million cherries. His eyebrows are scrunched and there's nothing more I want to do then find my way back into his arms and pretend there's nothing wrong; that it's perfectly fine to live together with someone you love after said person accepted your marrige proposal TWO years ago. 

That it does't hurt every single time you see him, because this could mean he doesn't love you enough to marry you.

Or trust you enough to let go.

He finds me under the covers, staring out the window. A position I'm more or less prone to. He undresses silently and I sneak a peek. He looks confused and a little angry. I really don't give a fuck if he's angry. He wraps his body around me and I don't turn around.

"What's wrong, baby. I feel like I don't know you anymore." His whispers burn my skin and I feel them coming down, fuck this shit, I can't stop the sobs that are rising in my throat.

"Do you love me?"

At that he stiffens, his feathers are rifled and I've hit him where it hurts.

"Yes, Justin Taylor. I love you. More than you love yourself, and a hell of a lot more than you love the snow that's been falling all day."

"Then marry me."

At that I turn around to gage his reaction.

"No."

I'm too stunned to even move. I feel myself turning over, and eventually I find myself on the floor, naked and despondent, sadder than I've ever been.

He's not even on the bed anymore. I hear the click of a light in the other room.

I curl up and watch the life leave my body.


	13. Chapter 13

  
Author's notes: It's been a long time since I updated this story. It's taken a different turn, but I hope you enjoy!!  


* * *

Two people break up for a handful of reasons; love is never a real issue unless it equates to money, or loyalty. Sometimes two people don't really know why they broke up, but they do know why they got together. Justin was the type of person w ho needed to know why. I couldn't tell him shit. I had no fucking idea why.

 And then I remembered that the minute I opened my door into the Real World, fingers would be pointed, telling me why. Signs would be made and protests would be held, screaming their Whys in my face. I strangled under the vice of conformity. I hated myself for leaving him like that. Now my time was two months of waiting for him to walk in here again, but I knew he wouldn't.

 

I walked downtown, hoping to become an alcoholic as I passed by bars, where men in dark shadows could buy me a few drinks, hoping to score in some shitty bar where no one knew your name. The summer breeze hit me hard, when the fuck did the seasons change? I could tell it was him by the way he was standing, a cigarette in one hand, smoke billowing into the light, warm air, a drink in the other. He was wearing something ten shades too small for his tiny frame. All I saw of him was that blonde hair, the way it fell unevenly in the back, remembering how soft it was in my hands as I made love to him from behind, in the middle of the night, a long long time ago. He turned around as I made my way down the street and stared. I put my hands in my jean pockets and stood in front of him.

"Smoking's gonna kill you," I said softly, motioning with my eyes to the burning cigarette, now dangling from his full lips.

"Fuck you. I have nothing to say to you." He looked away, and for a brief second I saw the panic in his eyes that was there the afternoon I went over to his house, how terrified he was to see me, yet how insanely excited he was that I was there. As he turned to face me again, his eyes were dark and unreadable.

Justin took a sip of his drink as he tapped his left foot. "What do you want, Brian?"

The way he said my name was harsh. He was cold. I made him this way.

I stepped a little bit closer and stole the cigarette from his hand, smoking it for him. I bit my lips as I stared at him, waiting for some divine inspiration.

"If you're gonna die early from lung cancer, I don't want to be far behind," I said, exhaling, wondering whether that even made any sense. The only thing on my mind was that I wanted to wake up next to him tomorrow morning, see him in my t-shirt and boxers, sleepy and perfect.

He debated on lighting another cigarette as he fingered the box in his hand, and I leaned down and kissed his neck, trailing my tongue lightly across his skin. I purposely placed a hand on his lower back to gauge his reaction, whether this territory was mine again. I looked up at him as I kissed upwards, my eyes never leaving his. When I reached his cheek, the stubble scratching my tongue, he finally opened his eyes and looked into mine. He moved my hand from his back, reached for it, and moved it to his cheek. I had never seen anything sexier in my entire life.

Shards of glass sat scattered across the ground as we started making out, a lit cigarette in my hand, sharing smoke with him when we weren't sharing spit. His hips did all the talking, I wasn't about to open my mouth when all that came out of it were diatribes about how much of a pussy I was. He was a little drunk, I could tell by the way he wanted me so much. I just wanted to look at him, drink him in again. He was my boy, the only other person in the world to me. I could barely breathe as his tongue took refuge in my mouth, he was leaning as far as he could into me to get closer. I broke the kiss and connected our foreheads, breathing heavily as I took a few drags, then placing it in his mouth. The smoke swirled around us.

"You're such a fuckin' asshole," Justin whispered, staring at me under his heavy lashes. "But I fucking love you, you know that Brian. I fucking can't breathe without you." He was drunk as shit, but when he said that to me I felt something inside of me click on, and it was as if I were told that its okay, I know that something really horrible happened, but you're still here. Feel free to live. I told him that I loved him too, and it wasn't a matter of how much I loved him. I needed to show him that I loved him, that every single breath he took was enough for me.

"Fuck Brian, what the fuck are you even doing here?" He asked me after a few minutes as we sat on the curb. He was too cute when he was fucked up.

"I came to find you and tell you that I'm madly in love with you," I whispered in his ear. I had always wanted to say that to someone. It felt so regal, and when he registered what I had just said, he laughed.

"If you just came here to fuck me, you're outta luck!" He laughed then, like it was the funniest thing in the world. I wanted to hold him forever, hear him laugh like that forever, even if he was going to regret waking up next to me tomorrow.

"I just want to feel you next to me, God, I can't survive without you." And I know that this laid everything on the line, but I had fucking nothing to lose. It was all gone already, lost in the wind. 

As I said that, he got up and held out his hand.

"Prove it."


End file.
